


Aught and All

by Cascaper



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 19:47:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17752334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cascaper/pseuds/Cascaper
Summary: In which it is proven once again that, despite all beliefs to the contrary, it is the heart and not the owner that decides when it will wake.





	1. Prologue: Overgrown

she had to pluck it out, this seed which had landed in her heart. in the one patch of her heart she’d thought permanently frozen over. it could not be let to remain.

hadn’t she learned her lesson by now? she was no longer a blushing maiden, no longer an open door; she was the Warrior and she was a weapon. a shield over the world, a sword against its enemies. she still had her friends to care for and she knew better than to let this kind of love sprout up a second time, lest it run wild and strangle the whole garden.

she had taken steps to protect against this. had locked her heart behind two sets of iron walls, with stones on iron mesh over the top. had wrapped the gate in chains and thought it good. it was a stout heart, and strong, and was just now recovering from its first love having been torn out by the roots. never again, Thosinund, never again.

not even for the most maddeningly indescribable green eyes in the whole world.


	2. Precipice

_It’s nothing_ , Thosi told herself.

All right, so he had confidence for malms without ever being cocky. So it was kind of funny that the tallest part of him was the crest of his ponytail, which reached just about to her chest. So he seemed comfortably centered as a person (neither compact nor towering, silent nor deafening), so he looked at her with such sincere appreciation—of what? her presence? her existence?—that it was a little unnerving. She’d barely known him for a week and he just seemed so glad to see her; how could he be? It seemed to go a bit beyond gratitude for her promised aid in Doma’s liberation.

But never mind all that. Anyone could be calm and confident. Anyone might be glad of the bloody Warrior of Light joining their cause.  _It’s nothing_.

* * *

Keeper knew there were plenty of other things to think about. Like, for instance, how much better it felt to be seven fulms tall in the Steppe. In Yanxia she couldn’t have blamed the villagers for distrusting her—after the years of imperial oppression and ingrained fear of rebellion, there she stood with Gosetsu, making a pair of lumbering giants come to shake the earth and upset the delicate balancing act of their survival. Thosinund had found herself in terror of stepping too far or gesturing too widely, like an auroch in a henhouse.

But the Steppe was endless space, all grass and mountains and sky. No one could be too big in a place like this. Thosinund was free to turn her attention to what she did best, namely knocking over every obstacle in the path so that they could bring Doma’s long-lost leader back to his people. Clashes of wills and beasts and blades, these she could handle.

She could not be  _bothered_ with the way he carried himself. Or the way he smiled like sunlight on the water. Or the way his eyes defied her to name their precise shade of green, peeking out from below the shadow of his brow. So he was attractive, so what?  _It’s nothing_.

* * *

Back in Yanxia again. Back in the House of the Fierce, where he was welcomed with a quiet, fervent excitement and watched with equally quiet, fervent care. Thosinund was rather surprised by the manner in which everyone she asked waved off her offers of help, asking only that she keep an eye on their lord should he chance to go outside.

_They are afraid of losing him again,_ she reasoned. Not such a strange concern. Nor such a difficult task. Just act as bodyguard for an afternoon, to the one man who in a few short weeks had managed to affect her as no other had for the last three years. Not since—well.  _It’s nothing, Thosinund. You’ll be fine_.

He made it both easy and not, explaining that he only wished to see Doma Castle before they must attack it on the morrow. Made it sound like a stroll with a friend, which it was. And wasn’t. Passing through the ruins of Monzen, avoiding enchanted suits of armor, soberly taking in the sight of the destruction the Empire had wrought. Searching through what had once been barracks, on the off chance of finding usable weapons? Why not.

It was a relief, beating down hungry monsters and keeping her eyes peeled. Not being suffocated by the stirrings deep in her chest whenever he spoke. Not feeling her lungs catch between her ribs at every other breath. By the time she found something- a katana, intact, still sheathed as if it had only just been lost- she was almost calm again.  _You’re fine. It’s nothing. You’re fine._

And on the riverbank, as he stared over the water at the walls of his ancestral home… that was good. That he should turn his back on her. That he should spare her the glance of those damnable eyes.  _It’s nothing. Nothing. You’re fine._

* * *

That night, though—there was nothing to do but rest before the morning, and Thosi found she could not even do that. Still, to put the others’ minds at rest, she at least pretended to head back toward the room in which she’d been given a bunk.

All right. Rebellion well under way. Imperials about to be ousted. A cocktail of agitation, tension, and disquiet thrumming through her veins. Nothing she hadn’t dealt with before; if she could not sleep, she would walk it all out until she could. She would pace the halls, quiet and steady, and no one would ever need to know that her thoughts were not solely of the battle to come.

Not Lyse, when Lyse ran into her. Certainly not the twins, whom Lyse pointed out had drifted off where they sat at their worktable full of maps and books. No one, no one, no one would know—

“Ho, another restless soul! Come, come—raise a glass to freedom.”

Every fiber of her being jolted toward the sound of his voice, though for a mercy she managed not to show it. She should beg off, should go, should  _not_  turn and walk to where he and Gosetsu sat by candlelight with so many bottles of sake between them.

But she did turn and she did walk, and she sat there listening to Gosetsu’s drunken speeches. Being grateful for every word the old samurai spoke, as even at a hush his voice was loud enough to drown out the shrilling of her nerves.  _Yes, he’s here, yes, right next to us, but it’s nothing,_ nothing _, no matter that tomorrow we may all die…_

She sat there while Gosetsu talked himself to sleep, while Yugiri joined them in a few bells’ quiet conversation, while the hour grew later and later until finally it was just the two of them. Thosinund and Hien, the last two standing… well, sitting. And Hien, while he could clearly hold his liquor, was starting to list rather alarmingly to one side.

Toward her side.

Thosinund was glad he didn’t notice how hard she was finding it to breathe. Things like this did not happen. Not to her. They must not happen again.

“Hey,” she said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder to push him back upright. “Careful there, you’ll fall.”

“You’re right,” he agreed, gravely; he straightened up and promptly proceeded to list the other way.

“You’re drunk.” She shook her head.

“So it would seem. And  _you_ ,” he inclined his head, “are not. Quite the feat, on a night like this.”

“Is that so.”

Hien nodded, pleased. “Yes. To sit with eyes unclouded, awaiting the uncertain dawn, is… is…” He seemed to be searching for a word, and not finding it. “Is… something. Impressive. Yes.”  

He was gazing straight at her now, with a faint smile, and for once she had a proper view of those eyes. Not that she needed it, but if it was here she was by-gods going to take it.

Words still failed her regarding their shade, tinted as it now was by the pale gold of the candle flame. But under the gold, that green looked like… a promise. Hope. The stirrings of life in a place once dead and cold.

Ugh, none of that made sense. Those weren’t colors. Maybe she was getting confused. It hurt, looking at him like this, feeling something old and brittle cracking deep inside her. Frozen earth. Rusted chains. It hurt, and yet she could not look away.

“You’re staring,” he said, softly.

“Sorry.”

“Why sorry? I did not say I minded.” A half-smile.

“It… it’s rude of me… and I…”

“But I’m staring too,” he returned. “So we are both rude, then. Be at ease, my friend.”

She winced at the phrase, a sharp hiss of air through her teeth, fist pressed against her sternum as though she’d been hit. It made no  _sense—_ it shouldn’t feel like—no. Things like this  _did not happen._ Could not. Wouldn’t. Not again, not now.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

“Don’t… what?” Now he looked concerned. “Are you all right? Tell me.”

“No, that- it’s nothing.” He was close and getting closer, so warm, so open, and she thought her pulse might stop altogether. A fine end for the Warrior of Light.

He tried to halt his leaning, to brace himself on something. Unfortunately his hands failed to grasp the table, and instead landed on her knees.

“Ah, forgive me,” he chuckled, sounding- a touch nervous? “The room seems to be spinning, I… I don’t mean to be so forward.” 

The words left her mouth before she could stop them: “I didn’t say I minded.” 

“Oh.” Hien stopped short, in the midst of trying to push back off from her lap. He had broken eye contact when he fell, but now his gaze met hers once more, lips slightly parted. Tentative. As if he were gathering himself. “Then… in that case, there is something I would say. If, uh, you might humor me.” He swallowed.

“Thosinund, I… you… not to be morose, but I may not get the chance again to… to tell you that I have become—f-fond of you, and… ah, kami take me, this is not going well. I have become the drunken rambler now, I fear.”

She wanted to laugh. Or weep. She did neither. “Fond,” she heard herself repeat, inanely.

“Yes, and I—I would—regret. Your not knowing that. That was all.”

Oh, to hells with this.

“That was not all,” she said, hoarse. “Not by a long shot. Hien, is there anything else you would say?”

He looked startled. “Er… no? That is…”

“Good.” Her own voice sounded far away. “Then I would say to you: kiss me.”

“What?”

“Kiss me, please, I—” She took a ragged breath. “I would regret. If you didn’t. And  _that_  is all.”

Hien had to rise to his feet to properly close the distance between them, had to take a moment to regain his bearings. But there he was, face to face with her for the first time. And then he was in her arms.

When he kissed her, all the air came back into her lungs in a dizzying rush; he started to draw back upon feeling her gasp, but she snugged her arms about his waist and held him fast. If this was to be the only time, she would make it count.

She kissed him and kissed him, trying to remember everything: his heartbeat drumming in his breast, the soft scratch of his beard against her skin. The faint taste of sake on his lips and the muted sounds he made down in his throat. Someone was trembling. Probably her. It didn’t matter. 

One kiss, and nothing more. That was all.


	3. Where We Stand

The morning of the Scions’ departure from Kugane arrived dim with rain. Thosinund tried to cast her mind ahead, across the sea, where it must be. Where it had to be. She might have succeeded, too, if on the very point of boarding a certain voice had not shouted, “You there! Hold that ship!”

_He was here_. Hien and Yugiri came pelting round the corner of the Shiokaze Hostelry, barely in time before anchor was weighed. Thank the gods Lyse was able to speak, for Thosi felt a horribly familiar tightening in her throat, and her heart pounded in her ears so that she could scarcely hear a word.

He had come all this way to say goodbye, to see them off; he was right there and seemingly unperturbed. Offering Doma’s aid to the Alliance and Ala Mhigo, telling Yugiri to go ahead as his messenger with tidings of the same. He was there,  _there_ , and he… was not looking at her.

Or at least, not only at her. Hien took care, she thought, to look at everyone, as well he might since he had come to make his speeches to the group as a whole. But then the ship would wait no longer and they had to  _go_ , and Thosi had to wrench her feet free of the dock. Had to turn, one last time, to see him and Tataru watching them leave.

_Wretch_ , howled a voice in the back of her mind.  _Weak, wretched woman. You’ve another war to win and you would waste moments on this? Get on with you, go. Forget him._

But she could not.

* * *

It was a grim sort of relief to set foot once more on Eorzean soil, to be swept back into the thick of things nearly the moment they arrived. Castellums to be captured, friends to be rescued- that was what really did it, the news that Krile had been taken prisoner. Before such as this, all else had to be set aside.

Over the chaos of the following weeks, Thosinund threw herself into all of it: the marching and mapping, the planning and fighting, day after day from dawn to dusk. She’d been made for this—was good at this; she was not meant for moping and sighing after what could never happen. She could not and would not falter.

(Not even when the Lady of Bliss taunted her in the midst of battle.  _Ssssuch misery you bear, with only more to come. Ssssuffering needlessly, when you might be content in a dream for evermore… a dream of him for whom you wear the lily, a dream of he whom you are trying to forget. Why fight this? Why reject my ssssuccor? Are you sssso dull-witted that you wish to live in pain?_

Yes. Yes, apparently, she was.)

* * *

The end was almost a surprise when it came. But come it did: the day when  Ala Mhigo, like Doma, stood under her own banner once more.

The celebrations, of course, lasted long and late, though they mostly amounted to a lot of drinking; no one had come prepared for much else. All very well. Thosinund had to go rather far afield to find a seat alone, but when she had, she sat and tried to think of what the hells she was going to do now.

If she did find Hien tonight, what would she say to him? Or he to her? Was there anything to say? One kiss did not a romance make. It was likely he too had put it aside, what with interim governments and gathering forces. And now, surely, he would want to get home as soon as possible, to make sure he yet had a home to return to.

Still…

“There you are.”

Thosinund jumped, nearly toppling from her rocky perch. Her wild look around soon discovered—“Yugiri,” she said, trying to smile. “You were looking for me?”

“Yes and no,” Yugiri replied. “That is—I wished to speak with you, but not solely on my behalf. May I sit down?”

“Oh- of course.” Thosi made room.

Even when one was aware of her presence, Yugiri made almost no noise. She settled herself on the rock with only a faint rasp of scales and a rustle of cloth. “Firstly, I would offer my thanks to you once more, for all you have done today. But I must ask—Lyse told us in confidence that Zenos did not die by your hand. That he put his own sword to his throat. Is this true?” At Thosi’s affirming nod, she went on. “I see. That was my second concern.”

“Gods know why he did it.” Thosi leaned her chin on her hand. “And after I took all afternoon to beat the primal out of him. He might at least have considered that.” 

Yugiri turned a palm upward, shrugged one shoulder. “The gods know why, indeed. But to my third reason for seeking you tonight.”

“Yes?”

“It concerns Lord Hien. He is distracted from the celebrations, always looking over his shoulder. I asked him what was the matter, and he would not tell me, but I soon realized that neither of us had seen you in some time. I thought perhaps he was looking for you.”  

“F-for me?” Thosi felt her fingers going cold. “Why did you… what makes you think that?”

Yugiri raised an eyebrow. “Well, we spoke with you only briefly in the wake of the victory, after all. More than that I would not presume to guess. Neither would I draw you back into the crowd against your will, but… if he looks for you again, may I tell him you are here?”  

She did not trust her legs to hold her if she stood. Or her tongue not to stammer further. So she only nodded, and watched the sheen of pearly scales disappearing into the dusk.

* * *

When Hien appeared, it was with lantern in hand. His face was hard to read in the flickering light; his voice, however, was not. 

“Thosinund,” he said, sounding relieved (and just a touch out of breath- had he been running?). “I thought I would not find you after all. Yugiri said you were alone, and while I have no doubt you do not fear the beasts, I confess I was… worried. Even the finest warrior might fall prey to exhaustion after such a day of hard labor.”  

She couldn’t help cracking a smile. “True. In that case, shouldn’t you sit down? You haven’t exactly been idle yourself.”

“Ha! You make a good point.” He set the lantern on the ground, then took up the spot Thosi had left empty beside herself- still somehow managing to cross his legs, despite the less-than-level rock. (Which, as she was immediately aware, put his knee less than half a fulm from her thigh…)

But she refused to let this be awkward right away. “So,” she said, with an attempt at a playful tone. “That was quite the dramatic entrance you made earlier! Swooping in on yol-back, cutting flying magitek in twain—and all before any of us knew you were even here.”

This earned another laugh, though it was more huff than voice. “We were rather late, I admit. We thought it better to make up for lost time by simply joining the fray when there was such clear need. And there was also the matter of… well…” A pause. 

When he spoke again, it was with an odd deliberation. “You may think me foolish, but I wanted to speak to you after the fight was done. When things were a touch more, ah… certain, as opposed to clouded over by the question of death or glory.”

So. The awkwardness had arrived.

“…I see,” she said. “Anything in particular you’d thought of saying?”

Hien hesitated. He seemed to be choosing his words as he went along, as though finding a path over unsteady ground. “Only that the last time we talked alone like this, I admitted certain sentiments, to which you never quite responded. Or—not in the same way. Although,” he added hurriedly, “I do not mean to say I disliked the way you did respond! But I wondered, later, if I was wrong in what I thought about it, because of the circumstances. And because you and your companions had to leave so soon afterward.

“I thought…” He trailed off. Then, with an effort- “I thought you might care for me in return. But I also thought it better to hear the truth of that from you.”

Were it not so dark, Thosi might have stared at her knees. She made do by fixing her gaze on the lantern where it flickered at their feet.

“You’re… not wrong, first of all,” she began. “I think I’ve been attracted to you almost since we met. And then I found out that you’re kind, and funny, and all these other things, but I…” She wanted to take his hand, to squeeze it for support. She found the end of her braid instead. “I was not… prepared. To feel this way. Not that anyone really is, but I… sorry, I’m having a hard time with this. Um-” She broke off, finding her voice constricted.

“It’s all right,” Hien said, concerned. “Take your time.”

Thosi blew out a breath. “I- It’s not that I don’t like you, because I do, but I- I can’t-”

Gods damn it, she was shaking again. Why was this so  _hard?!_  Her world had shrunk to the lantern, and the wind, and the fear that he might misunderstand if she didn’t say what had to be said.

“There is…” She dared a glance at him, thought she saw him stiffen. Corrected herself. “There was someone I knew, before you. Long before you. Someone I loved, who would have given me the world if he only could, but who ended up giving his life for mine instead. When he died I thought I could never love again. I- I couldn’t look at anyone else, I couldn’t even think of it, but then I m-met you and…”

Despite the darkness, she squeezed her eyes shut. “Hien, I… I do care for you, I’m just. Scared, by all of this. I keep feeling disloyal, for wanting you, even though you can’t be disloyal to the dead and… and I think I should stop talking now.”

The wind whipped round her head, lashed at her neck. She counted to five, then to ten, before she felt able to open her eyes once more. 

“…I think I see,” Hien said at last, tentative. “If that was quite all you wished to say…?”

Thosi’s fingers clenched round her braid. “I… yes.”

He cleared his throat.  “Right. Then I must say that, in that case, I hardly expect you to throw yourself headlong into lo- er. Affection, as you do into combat. After all, we have hardly begun to know each other, even if we have established a…” and his voice softened, “mutual fondness. But now we have the time to begin.”

“From opposite sides of the ocean,” she blurted, then covered her mouth. “I’m sorry, you- you weren’t finished.”

“Why sorry?” he asked, gently. “It was a valid point. But we… we might visit, from time to time? And we could write to each other, if you like.”

Look at him in the lantern light, look at that barely concealed hope on his face.  _Gods_  he was sweet. “Yes,” Thosi said slowly. “Yes, that would be-” Then it struck her. “Hien, I can’t read Doman.”

He gave a surprised laugh. “But how can that be? You speak it so well!”

This necessitated a brief lesson on the particulars of the Echo; she was not sure she explained it very well, but Hien did seem to get the gist.

“So we will learn, then,” he said briskly, “to read each other’s words as well as we hear them. And when that is done, then we might worry about the rest. Does that suit you?”

She felt a small smile starting to curl across her face. “It does. And, um… Hien?”

“Yes, Thosinund?”

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.” 


	4. all you would say

“How long do we have?”

Thosinund blinked sleepily up at Hien, where he sat on a cushion across from her. (This was an odd demonstration of respect, as his tent was just over four fulms wide, but he had insisted that she have his mattress. Well, futon was the word he’d used.)

“How long until what?” she returned, the question ending in a yawn despite her best efforts. They’d long since fled the cold, in favor of his showing her exactly where the Doman/Xaela forces were camped, and then found themselves reluctant to part.

“Until dawn,” he answered. “As I imagine that is when the troops will be stirring, and I do not know if… er…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “If it would- do. For you to be seen-”

“-emerging from your quarters,” Thosi finished, stretching. “Heh. Perhaps it wouldn’t at that. But I never did keep a timepiece on me… and even if I did, I’d be ignoring it tonight.”

Hien colored a little in the lamplight, probably because she was looking at him without hiding her heart. Good. He should blush more often; it suited him. Thosi wondered, not for the first time, if this was what it felt like to be drunk. (Properly, alcoholically drunk, that was. Not simply on a high of willingly forgone sleep.)

“Even so,” he persisted, “I would not like to cause you trouble. Your Scions will want to know where you were all this time, and…”

When he trailed off, Thosi propped herself up on one elbow to squint quizzically at him. “And?”

Hien’s blush deepened. “And if you stay any longer, I cannot tell what I might say.”

She felt a little thrill run through her. Oh, that sounded interesting.

“Suppose I want you to say it,” she challenged.

“I don’t think you do.”

“Hien,” she said, and sat up the rest of the way. “We don’t even know how long it is til dawn. Til we both have to go back to our lives, til there’s a whole ocean between us. I want to know- I want to hear everything you would say to me.”

It was remarkable, how easy it was to tell him things when she felt like this. Too tired to worry, too tired to turn every thought over a dozen times before letting it out of her mouth. Too tired to fret over… over anything. If she could only skip the tiredness and keep the lack of reserve, she’d want to feel this way a lot more often.

There was a metallic squeak. Thosi blinked again, finding her eyes had drifted shut for a moment, to see that the sound came from the lantern handle. Which Hien was lifting, so as to move the lantern aside.

“Thosinund,” he said, with the most serious look. “If you truly want to hear it, I would say that- that I do not wish to rush you into anything, or make you uncomfortable, and yet the fact of the matter is …” He swallowed. “Is that I badly want to kiss you again, just now.”

Thosi stared at him a second. Then another. “Oh,  _Hien_ ,” she said, fighting a wild urge to laugh. “What grim expressions you make while speaking so sentimentally.”

“But I won’t! I mean- after what you said- about being frightened and feeling disloyal to your lost love, and-” He cut himself off.

“Oh Hien,” she repeated, more softly. “I did say that. And yet at this moment, all I want is to kiss you too.”

He was still struggling, if the shifting of his brows was anything to go by. “You… you will not regret it in the morning?”

“I’m too tired for regrets.”

“But when you are not tired.” He looked pained. “Thosinund, please, I don’t want to hurt you.”

The incipient laughter vanished. “You won’t,” she whispered. “You won’t hurt me. Or rush me. It’s nothing we haven’t done before, is it?”

That cleared the clouds from his brow all at once. “I… I suppose it isn’t at that.”

She held out a hand, inviting. When he took it, she pulled him into her arms.

Some rearrangements had to be made, this time- she had to uncross her legs, so as to make room for him to kneel between, and the lantern had to be shifted again lest she kick it over. But soon enough they were off and running, so to speak, and Thosi felt herself carried away.

Hien did not taste of sake this time- nor indeed of any other drink. He kissed her with an urgency that felt like hunger, clutching her to him with every onze of power he possessed, and she could not help responding in kind.

She wondered distantly if he was right, if she would feel guilty about this later. Intellectually she acknowledged the possibility, but in this moment of heady delirium all she could think was that she had  _missed_  this. Missed his mouth against hers, missed the tips of his hair brushing her knuckles. She worked her hands over his back, feeling his muscles tense and release, and was rewarded with a most gratifying shudder of appreciation.

If he would devour her, she would drink him; if they kept kissing, maybe they could keep dawn from coming just a little longer. His hair was dark enough- it might just fool the sun into thinking that deep night was still on, that light would not be required for bells yet. She thought her lips might be going numb, but to hells with that; only when she felt him pulling back did she reluctantly break contact.

She could not form a coherent thought. She simply looked at him. His mouth seemed a touch swollen, and his eyes darker than usual; perhaps he too was feeling fatigued at last. They had used up all their remaining energy on each other. It seemed right.

“Maybe I should go,” she said, yawning again. “I mean. We should get  _some_ sleep tonight.”

“I suppose,” Hien mumbled, trying and failing to stifle a yawn of his own. “But you… it is so far back to the Alliance tents… you should not go alone.”

“I can teleport. I’ll be all right.” Then it hit her- “I can  _teleport_. They won’t have to see me leaving here at all, I can-”

“-stay?” he finished, hopeful. “Only… just until I, oh-” and he yawned once more. “Fall asleep. Please?”

Even if he had been wide awake, she could not have found it in herself to refuse such a sweet request. It was the work of a few shuffling moments to shift round each other, and then he was stretched out on the mattress, smiling up at her from the pillow. Judging by his slow blinks, he could barely keep his eyes open.

“I’m here,” she told him, softly.

“I know,” he said sleepily. “But I don’t want you to leave.”

She shook her head. “Now, now. That’s not what we agreed.”

He sighed. “I suppose it is not…”

Finally, finally he let his lids drift closed. Within seconds he was breathing deep and slow, looking so peaceful that she was tempted to throw caution to the winds and simply snuggle down on the floor by his side. But no. They had agreed.

“Good night, Hien,” she whispered, and willed herself away.


End file.
